The wolf often dresses like a kindly old lady. It often seems as though the wolf means no harm; the wolf has a silver tongue dripping with liquid promises.
Although the wolf promised me the moon; I never fully believed the wolf, there was always the glint of something other mischief in the corner of his eye. I guess that’s the thing I’ve learnt about the entertainment industry.
On the outskirts of movie town, there are several old ladies (wolves) picking daisies and offering candy to tired travelers.
In Hollywood, the wolves are the middle men, people without any particular talent, or any love at all for the art of good storytelling. The wolves are hungry, they hunt the weak, the vulnerable, the innocent and the naive.
P:S: This is the eighth in a series of blogs chronicling my adventures in Los Angeles over the last 3 years. See “How the F@*k Did I Get Here” to begin the adventure.